


In Your Embrace, My Cold Heart Warms

by EmeraldandSilver



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay, M/M, Military Backstory, Opposites Attract, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8875309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldandSilver/pseuds/EmeraldandSilver
Summary: After completing his mandatory military service in Korea, Seung-gil Lee returns to figure skating. He's behind all the others, his skating has changed drastically, and memories still haunt him day by day. With the help of Phichit Chulanont, maybe he can catch up and overcome the trauma of the past two and a half years.





	1. The Moonless Night

**Author's Note:**

> This will be an ongoing work. I hope the explanation of the mandatory military service in Korea is sufficient. If not, feel free to ask questions in the comments.
> 
> In this chapter, Seung-gil is 22 and Phichit is 23.
> 
> [Update 1/4/17 - Changing stylization of Seung-Gil's name to Seung-gil, as that is the most common way to romanize Korean names.]

Two and a half years. Two and a half years of Seung-gil Lee's life—his skating career—gone.

The Rostelecom Cup had been Seung-gil's last chance. If he had placed, he would've gone on to the Grand Prix Final. After that, he would've been able to complete the skating season. But he'd screwed up in the free skate. Big time.

Years ago, he'd sworn never to cry after a competition, but the crushing reality had been too much. Twenty years old. In good shape. A dreamboat for the mandatory military conscription. Most Korean men entered between twenty and twenty-three, but they could go in as late as their early thirties.

If Seung-gil had just placed, if he hadn't screwed up his quadruple loop, he could've continued winning medals and held off the military service til the end of his skating career. But now it had fallen smack dab in the middle of it.

Seung-gil stepped onto the ice of his home rink in South Korea.

A chill ran down his spine, but it wasn't from the cold. His demeanor always changed on the ice. It made him feel alive. Here he could create a masterpiece, the ice as his canvas. With his skates, he would paint circles in it.

His breath caught, his heart drumming loudly in his chest. The beat pounded in his ears and reminded him of the drums he would rather forget.

His fears came to him all at once. Would he still be good at skating?

It had taken most of his life to get his skating skills to where they were two and a half years ago. And the only way he'd been able to do that was through constant practice. Day after day. Never more than a day away from the ice.

Even a day missed would weaken his skills. How would he perform now?

Seung-gil tried to clear his mind. These were the same fears that caused many a skater to quit, but Seung-gil wasn't a quitter. This was his ice.

Without another thought, Seung-gil pumped his legs and soared across the ice. Air rushed against his face, traveled along his whole body, as if the ice were welcoming him home with a strong embrace.

Seung-gil skated in circles in the middle, then abruptly changed direction so he could lose himself in a spin. He pulled in his arms to his chest, and spun faster.

He felt better. Stronger. More at peace.

Seung-gil skated around the rink again. Though he had stretched his muscles thoroughly before getting on the ice, he wasn't ready to do any jumps. Not even singles.

Even if his body could physically make the jump, he worried that falling again so soon after returning to the ice would crush his spirit.

He had to keep his motivation up. At almost twenty-three, he was old in competitive figure skating years. The time to win medals and redeem himself was short.

Seung-gil set a timer on his phone and allowed himself just to skate. Despite his crushing worries, he felt as if he had never enjoyed skating on the ice so much before. Leaving the ice had been like leaving a part of him behind. While he was away, he'd been incomplete...

But he was relieved for that. He didn't want to bring this part of himself to the military. In the military, he was just one of many. He followed orders. He tried to fix his habit of speaking his mind. And he tried not to think about how good the other skaters were getting in his absence.

He hadn't even touched the internet since he'd been back. How high would the scores be now? Who was ranked the highest? Surely Yuri Plisetsky had broken another world record.

Seung-gil's timer beeped, and he stepped off the ice. Soon he would see his coach again, and that was when the real battle would begin.

Figure skating was his life, no doubt about it. He had to make the most of the few years he had left.

* * *

 

“Your skating has changed.”

Those were the last words Seung-gil wanted to hear from his coach. Her eyes were stern, her mouth a hard line. Displeased. Her brows furrowed and she tapped her chin. No, confused. Contemplating a plan of action.

Seung-gil wondered if she'd suggest they go in a different direction. He'd been doing the same types of routines for most of his skating career.

“The problem is, you're trying to get back to how you used to be, but you're not the same person anymore.”

He stared at her blankly.

A hint of a smile crossed her lips. “You see. Two years ago, you would've made a comment about that. I'm going to be blunt with you. During your entire skating career, you've carried one main weakness. You don't put enough into the presentation or the feelings of the piece. You're too concerned with the technical score.”

Seung-gil nodded. He knew it was true. In every performance, he focused on calculating the scores of his jumps while he skated. He forgot about the presentation part—the points that could make or break his score. It had always seemed more important to be technically flawless on the ice.

His coach sighed and put her hands on her hips. “I am stepping down as your coach.”

“There's no reason for that. I'm not ready to retire.”

She smiled. “Finally, a reaction from you. But I'm serious. I can't teach you what you need to learn. Let me make a quick phone call, okay?”

Seung-gil stared after her in disbelief. With no coach, how would he make his comeback? Aside from that, why didn't she believe in him? His skating had changed, yes, but that didn't mean he couldn't improve. He could focus on his presentation this time.

When his coach returned, she had a cryptic smile on her face. It made Seung-gil feel uneasy. She hadn't called his parents, had she? He hadn't spoken to them in years, and he'd rather they not know how much he was struggling now. They would tell him to quit skating. After all, failure was unacceptable.

Then again, Seung-gil was old enough to make his own decisions, and being in the military had taught him a lot about life. Valuable lessons, for sure, but not the best method for learning them.

His coach cleared her throat. “I've just spoken with Celestino Cialdini. He's agreed to be your new coach.”

Seung-gil had heard the name before. “Katsuki Yuuri's old coach?”

“The same.”

“Didn't he fail to bring out Katsuki's potential?”

“He didn't work well with Katsuki, but he is still a very good coach. Do not underestimate him. He's especially good at bringing out the culture of his skaters. Personality-wise, he'll be something new for you. Something different. That's what you need.”

Seung-gil crossed his arms. He wasn't sure about this new coach business. How would Celestino help him when he'd failed Katsuki Yuuri?

“Pack your bags. You're moving to Thailand.”

“Thailand?” He'd thought Celestino was stationed in America since Katsuki had trained in Detroit. Why would he be in Thailand now?

“He's there training Phichit Chulanont. You remember him, right? The Thai skater in the Grand Prix Final. He competed in Skate America and the Cup of China. Even ranked gold in the Cup of China.”

Seung-gil gave a small shrug. Phichit Chulanont didn't sound familiar to him. Such a weird name.

“Look him up online later. He's competed in the last three Grand Prix Finals, though he's yet to rank gold.”

“Okay. I'll go train in Thailand.”

Because he didn't want to be crushed, he didn't ask whether she'd take him back if things failed with Celestino...or whether this was his last chance.

* * *

 

Celestino led the way to Seung-gil's room in the shared house in Bangkok, Thailand. He explained that his own room was upstairs and Phichit's was just down the hall.

Seung-gil couldn't help but glance around curiously. He hadn't seen Phichit yet. Still unable to open his computer, Seung-gil had neglected to look him up and still had no idea what the Thai boy looked like. He could assume at the very least that he was dark-eyed and physically fit, but that didn't tell him much.

“Well, that should be all for today,” Celestino said, a wide grin on his face. He acted as if he were thrilled to have him there, but Seung-gil doubted that was true. If Seung-gil somehow managed to surpass Phichit, Celestino would regret coaching him. Coaches always showed the most loyalty to their older students.

Seung-gil set his bag on the small desk in the corner, and hurried to unpack the bowls and dog food for his Siberian-husky, Jinju. He poured water into a bowl from a bottle in his backpack. Going to the sink would be too much effort.

He petted Jinju as she greedily dug into the dog food. Seung-gil looked around the room. The walls were white and blank. Good. Just how he liked it.

Afternoon light streamed in through the window, casting the room in a warm glow. It should have brought comfort, but it worried Seung-gil. Would this place one day feel like home?

Had any place ever felt like home?

“Sawasdee Krab!”

Seung-gil looked over at the door, which he had regretfully left open. The Thai boy stood there, smiling brightly. Phichit Chulanont, he was sure of it. Now that he thought about it, he did look a little familiar.

“Anyeong haseyo,” Seung-gil said, returning the greeting in Korean. He knew enough Thai to understand what Phichit was saying, but he didn't want the boy to think he could converse freely with him in Thai. Better to pretend he didn't understand any at all.

Phichit's eyes lit up and he rushed toward him. Seung-gil, startled, scooted backward, but Phichit knelt down in front of Jinju and started petting her. “This is your dog? She's beautiful. I've always loved animals. I have hamsters myself. What's her name?”

“Jinju.” Seung-gil kept his voice even, determined not to show how much the boy's fast approach had scared him. Phichit, completely unaware, had slammed through his personal space. Seung-gil felt sweat trickle down his neck, and his fists shook against the ground. He quickly crossed his arms to hide it.

“Jinju, what an adorable name you have!” Phichit proceeded to hug the dog. Surprisingly, Jinju enjoyed the attention and licked Phichit's face, eliciting laughter from him. “That tickles.”

“Oh, hey.” Phichit dug something out of his pocket and handed it to Seung-gil. A phone. Seung-gil stared at it, confused. “Take a picture of us,” Phichit prompted. He made a “V” with his fingers and wrapped his other arm around Jinju.

Seung-gil hit the button on the screen and Instagram popped up. He had rarely used the app himself, so it took him a little while to find the camera. Then he held it up, snapped the photo, and handed it back to Phichit without looking at it.

“It's blurry,” Phichit whined. He shoved the phone back into Seung-gil's hands. “Try again. Make sure it looks good.” He posed again. Seung-gil thought his smile seemed impossibly large. Wouldn't that break your face?

He snapped the picture and looked at it this time. Cute. Jinju, that is. Not the Thai boy hugging his dog with enough affection to make any Korean man uncomfortable.

Thankfully, Phichit accepted the photo this time and uploaded it right away. Seung-gil's phone buzzed, and he pulled it out. Phichit had tagged him in the photo. Great. Seung-gil wanted to die.

“How do you even know my Instagram?” he asked.

Phichit straightened up. “Huh? Oh, I think it was when you got silver at the NHK Trophy. Or maybe when you skated against Yuuri at the Rostelecom Cup.” He shrugged and focused his attention on his phone. “Hey, how come you never followed me back? You're only following, like, ten people.”

“I don't follow people I don't know.”

“Well, you know me now, so why don't you follow me?”

Seung-gil didn't want pictures of Phichit showing up on the app every time he opened it, but he knew they had to get along somehow. He'd had enough of not getting along with people during his time away. Appeasing Phichit and staying on his good side was necessary.

“Thanks!” Phichit chirped as his phone dinged.

Seung-gil frowned. Had he just been staring at his screen waiting for the notification? What a strange guy.

“Let's take a selfie!” Phichit exclaimed. “To commemorate the beginning of our time as roomies.”

“We're not roommates.”

“Neighbors then?”

Seung-gil shook his head. “No photo. I look gross from the flight.” An excuse. Really, he just wasn't in the mood. He only took photos when he had to, or to show his parents that he was doing fine. That was the only reason he had the photo of himself and Jinju on his Instagram.

Phichit chuckled. “We have very different definitions of gross then. But don't worry. I'll let you off for today, but we are getting a picture together soon!” With one last pat on Jinju's head, Phichit stood up and stretched. “I'm going to make some fried rice. Do you want any?”

“After my shower.”

Phichit's cheeks puffed out, his grin even wider than earlier. “Great! And then I can take a picture of our two bowls to commemorate our first night as neighbors!”

Seung-gil stared after the overenthusiastic boy as he rushed away. What had he gotten himself into?

 


	2. The Morning Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been months since I've updated, but I finally found the inspiration to continue this. I've missed Seung-gil and Phichit, and I really love the storyline I have planned for this fic. Hope you enjoy the emotional rollarcoaster. xD

Thick mist descended upon the murky forest as humidity clung to every surface. Sounds echoed through the darkness. Screams. Laughter. _Bzz! Bzz!_ His skin prickled as he thrashed away from the noise, but it surrounded him on all sides. No matter how much he moved, it never stopped...only got louder.

Seung-gil woke panting, drenched in sweat. He felt the cool surface beneath his fingertips, the blanket wrapped around him. No forest. Just a dream. A nightmare. A memory.

He closed his eyes again, allowing himself a few more minutes before the officers forced them to awake. His dreams became filled with more memories—this time of skating. The feel of a perfect jump. The coolness of the ice rink. His coach's congratulations. Such pleasant memories. He hoped he could return to skating once he finally left this hellhole.

A bright light seared his eyelids, and a dreadful feeling entered the pit of his stomach, making him queasy.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

English? Seung-gil opened his eyes in confusion. The light from the window hit him full blast, and he had to squint to make out the figure standing before him. The figure who was…giggling?

Phichit Chulanont. The events of the past week all came back to him at once. He wasn't home or in the military. This place was new—hopefully it would be better too.

“What are you laughing at?” he asked grumpily. Was his hair sticking up or something?

Phichit pointed to him. “You fell off the bed in your sleep. I didn't know people actually did that in real life. I've only seen that in movies.”

Seung-gil glanced at the bed a few feet away. He, in fact, hadn't fallen off the bed. He'd become so used to the hard, uncomfortable beds in the bunkers that he couldn’t sleep in a normal bed yet. Not even a futon.

“What time is it?” Seung-gil asked, even though he could have easily checked on his phone.

“Seven. We’re going for a morning run, so you'd better get dressed.” Phichit nodded towards his chest.

Seung-gil looked down at himself, startled to find that he was wearing nothing but boxers. He’d been sweating so much from his nightmares that he must have pulled off his clothes in his sleep.

His cheeks burned. He wrapped the blanket tightly around his shoulders and picked up his phone. “Why do we have to run? I thought training didn’t start until Monday.”

“Training with Ciao Ciao doesn’t start until Monday, but I run every morning to stay in shape. Come on, get ready.”

Seung-gil had gotten used to morning runs in the military, so he had no objections to physical exertion this early in the morning. He just wasn’t in the mood to go anywhere yet. He wanted to take the morning easy so he could settle in…or something like that. But the expectant look on Phichit’s face made him feel too guilty to turn him down.

“Fine, I’ll get ready.” He stared at the Thai boy, trying to send a nonverbal signal for him to get out, but he just stood there smiling. “Don’t you need to get ready too?”

Phichit gestured to his tank top, track shorts, and running shoes. “I'm already ready.”

When it was clear the boy wasn’t going to leave him alone, Seung-gil got up and walked to his dresser. Phichit would leave once he saw him getting his things together. He just wanted to make sure Seung-gil was actually waking up.

Seung-gil turned around and saw that the Thai boy had made himself comfortable on Seung-gil's bed. He was leaning against the pillow, his legs propped up, as he observed something on his phone. Crap…

Seung-gil didn’t want to be rude to him, but he couldn’t stand the boy invading his space like this. Should he just tell him to fuck off? Thankfully, he caught himself before the words slipped out. “I've got to use the restroom,” he said and rushed out of the room.

As soon as he reached the bathroom, he locked himself inside and clutched his clothes close to his chest. Phichit was so strange. Seung-gil couldn't come up with a better word for it. He'd changed before other men in the military. That wasn't the problem. He wasn’t entirely sure what the problem was, but something about Phichit made him uncomfortable.

Whatever the reason, Phichit couldn't be trusted. That was the plain and simple truth. The boy was too friendly, made him way too nervous. Therefore, he needed to be watched closely.

...

After their run, during which Phichit wasted half his breath chatting about nonsense, they returned home to rehydrate themselves. Seung-gil tried not to look at the Thai boy. He wanted to have a friend, but he’d encountered enough “friendly” people to know that the kindest people were often just very good at faking it. He needed to take things slowly, so he could evaluate Phichit and see if he was honest. It was especially tough to tell when the subject was your future competition.

“Hey, want to have lunch with me?” Phichit asked, interrupting his train of thought. “I'll treat you to something good.”

Seung-gil eyed him, noticing that he was standing way too close for comfort. He was too eager. Definitely a sign of fake kindness. “No thank you.”

“Oh come on.” Phichit nudged his arm playfully. “You must be starving after that run.”

Seung-gil rubbed the tingling spot on his arm where Phichit had touched him.

“Can you honestly say you're not hungry?”

He couldn't. “I’ll just eat here.”

Phichit crossed his arms. “You’re really going to turn down free food?”

Seung-gil shrugged. “I don’t feel like going out again today.”

Phichit rubbed his chin, then his whole face lit up and he snapped his fingers. “How about a compromise? We eat at the house, but I’ll prepare the meal?”

Seung-gil was caught off guard by his abrupt proposal. “I don’t know...”

“Come on. I’ll make hamburger steak.”

Seung-gil’s mouth watered, and he temporarily forgot that he shouldn’t trust this boy. “Okay.”

…

While Phichit busied himself in the kitchen, Seung-gil retreated to his room for some alone time. He made sure to lock the door this time and went to sit at the small wooden desk in the corner. From the top drawer, he pulled out the journal he had crammed between the pages of a dictionary.

Seung-gil had briefly seen a counselor at the military base who had given him the advice to keep a journal of all of his negative thoughts and feelings in order to get them out of his system. At the time he’d thought it was a load of nonsense. It wasn’t until he’d returned home that he actually started writing in the journal. He still couldn’t bring himself to write about the things that bothered him the most, but he had taken to writing several minuscule details he remembered from his time in the military, in the hopes that writing it down would erase it from his nightmares.

Today he wrote about the forest and how the noise seemed to echo all around him. How trapped he'd felt, how isolated, how vulnerable. The screaming, the crying. He couldn’t even remember who was crying…

Once he had finished that entry, he started a new one on the little things that came into his head. He wrote about how each officer's shoes squeaked in a different way so they could always tell who was coming. He wrote about the canteen's sad excuse for fried rice—it didn't even have egg in it. He wrote about the word “help” etched into the underside of the bunk above him, how he would stare at it for hours on end, wondering if that person had suffered as much as he had.

He wrote about the vomit color of the bedsheets. The way he'd pick dirt from his shoe soles with a knife. The sound the leaky faucet would make. How it was so quiet at night that he could hear it all the way in the bunkers. _Drip. Drip. Drop._ At first the sound had annoyed him, but after a while, it became his lullaby.

Then he started a new entry and filled it entirely with repetitions of one sentence: _I am Seung-gil Lee._

The military had trained them to think as one, to abandon their own identity, but Seung-gil had always felt like an outsider. Instead of becoming one with the military, he had become a nobody. To stop his tears at night, he’d made himself forget his life, figure skating, even his dog. He had erased himself...and now he was struggling to get himself back.

Maybe that was why he was having trouble with skating now. It was difficult to rekindle a feeling he had spent so many days trying to forget.

_I am Seung-gil Lee._

…

Lunch was delicious. As annoying as Phichit was, he was one hell of a cook. Seung-gil had been living on crappy canteen food for so long—sometimes they’d even had to make their own food and ration it out over days. Since he had returned home, he’d mostly been eating canned beef stew and frozen dinners that he could pop in the microwave. He’d never been much of a chef himself.

It felt so good to taste fresh meat again. The hamburger steak was soft, moist, and so juicy that he had to wipe his chin several times. Seung-gil let himself forget his worries about figure skating while he savored each bite of the meal.

Afterwards, he washed it down with a glass of water and let out a long satisfied sigh.

“You certainly cleaned your plate,” Phichit said cheerfully. He had his phone out a second later. “Smile.”

Seung-gil held his hand out to block the camera. “Don’t take my picture.”

Phichit pouted. “Why not?”

“I’m gross from the run.” He averted his eyes. It was true at least, even if it wasn’t his main reason.

Phichit rubbed his chin. “Oh, you’re one of those people.”

“Huh?”

“You said the same thing last night. Too gross from your flight. So no pictures unless you look absolutely flawless? That’s fine. I can work with that.” Phichit grinned, displaying all his teeth. “Also, I can put a filter on the photo if you want. My friend Guang Hong is obsessed with filters—and stickers.”

Seung-gil didn’t understand half of what Phichit was saying, so he just nodded along without actually agreeing or disagreeing.

Phichit ended up taking a picture of Seung-gil’s empty plate and posting the picture to Instagram with the caption “Looks like my roommate likes my cooking. #roomies #myhamburgersteakistodiefor #foodie”

“I said we’re not roommates,” Seung-gil insisted, but Phichit refused to change the caption. He seemed to like the idea of the two of them as roommates, so Seung-gil let it slide.

“So, I bet you’re excited for training,” Phichit said.

Seung-gil snorted. “Sure.”

Phichit made a pouty face, like he was trying to cheer him up. “That’s not the face of someone who’s motivated to win.”

“You’re right. It’s the face of someone who’s been fired by their own coach and passed on to another.” Seung-gil couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice, nor could he look Phichit in the eyes.

“That’s not what happened. Ciao Ciao says you just need a change of scenery. I had to do the same thing several years ago when I moved from Detroit back to my hometown. It’s a good chance to start over and perform even better than before.”

“That isn’t going to happen.” Seung-gil itched the back of his neck as he stared down at his empty plate. “I haven’t been able to land any of my jumps. I’m not sure that I have the ability to skate anymore. Passing me off to Celestino was my coach’s last-ditch effort because she didn’t know what to do with me.”

“No offense but your coach is an idiot. Look, whenever you return from a long break, you need to build yourself up again. Back in Detroit, I got into an accident and had to stay off the ice for three months while my broken bones healed. When I returned to skating, I was such a mess. It took me weeks to get back to normal. Don’t give up before you’ve tried.”

“I don’t want to give up,” Seung-gil said honestly. “I’m just worried that I’ll fail.”

“Look at it this way: if you don’t try, you’ve already failed,” Phichit pointed out.

Seung-gil shrugged. “I guess.”

“None of this ‘I guess’ crap.” Phichit started tapping on his phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling the rink owner,” Phichit said. He pressed the speaker button on the phone, and the ringing sounded in the room. A voice picked up. “Hey, Mr. Sangsorn. Could me and my friend come by to skate tonight? Just a few hours.”

“Sure thing. I’ll meet you there at _hok mong yen_.”

“Sounds great. See you then.” Phichit clicked the _end call_ button, then smiled up at Seung-gil triumphantly. “There we go. We’ll get you cured of your skating fears before lessons start with Ciao Ciao.”

Seung-gil stared at Phichit in disbelief. _Hok mong yen_ equaled six in the evening, if he remembered correctly. “He lets you skate whenever you want?”

“As long as he isn’t busy. We go way back. He’s been around since I started skating as a child.” Phichit launched into a story about how he had been in an iceskating commercial at his rink and how that was how his talent had been discovered.

Seung-gil tried to pay attention, but he was still fixated on the fact that Phichit Chulanont had always had more ice time than him. Even though Seung-gil had practiced every day, he’d never been able to skate outside of his lessons.

He couldn’t help but think that it must be nice to skate on your own—without your coach breathing down your neck.

…

Heart racing, Seung-gil placed his feet on the ice one by one. He was so terrified that he would make a fool of himself in front of his new rink mate. Skating this early didn’t suit him at all. He needed time to prepare himself—he was _supposed_ to have all weekend—but once again Phichit had interfered with his carefully laid plans.

Music drifted through the loud speakers after Phichit hooked up his iPod. Grinning from ear to ear, he skated across the rink to join Seung-gil. “Ready to get started?”

Seung-gil sighed. He doubted he’d ever be ready. It had been so long. Phichit had only been out for a few weeks—not years. He didn’t understand what this was like for him. Two and a half years of no skating whatsoever. How could he ever be good again?

Phichit chuckled. “I’ll take that sigh as a ‘hurry up and get started, Hyung.’”

“You’re not older,” Seung-gil said quickly. He didn’t remember how old Phichit was, but with how he acted, he had to be at least a year or two younger.

“I’m twenty-three. Your birthday is in June, right? That makes me two months older.” Phichit put his hands on his hips, grinning triumphantly. “So I’m your Hyung.”

Seung-gil raised his eyebrows. “You actually care about honorifics?”

“Not really. I was just showing off my rather limited knowledge of the Korean language. What would you call someone younger?”

“Just call me by my name.”

“Seung-gil-ssi?”

“No. Just Seung-gil.”

Phichit lifted his hands in surrender, but the smile remained on his face. “Seung-gil it is. That’s easier anyways. So today I will be your teacher. You can call me Seongsaeng-nim.” He winked playfully. “We will be taking things from the very beginning. That’s right. We’ll start with swizzles and strengthening your one-foot forward and backwards glides. Hopefully by the end of the session we can perfect your two-foot turn.”

“What about a three turn?” It was the basis for most of the jumps. Wouldn’t he need that for Monday’s lesson with Celestino?

Phichit wagged his finger. “Nope. Today is about strengthening your foundation. You’ve kept up your physical fitness with your military training, yeah? But I’m sure you weren’t using all the same muscles you use in skating. You have to get your body used to using those muscles again.”

“So no jumps today?”

“No jumps.”

Seung-gil felt a mix of annoyance and relief. He didn’t think he’d make much progress going over the basics for the next few hours, but at least it afforded him less of a chance to fall on his ass. “What’s first?”

They spent the next hour going over the grueling basics. Seung-gil actually found himself sweating and his muscles aching from the workout. He hated to admit it, but his backwards skating was improving significantly with each lap around the rink. Still, he hated the repetitiveness of it all. It reminded him too much of the military drills he’d had to perform day after day.

A motorcycle sounded in the distance—the revving of its engine—and for a moment Seung-gil forgot where he was. His feet slipped out from beneath him and he went sliding across the ice on his bottom. The jolt ran through his body, and the sounds from his dream returned to him. The same voice screaming over and over. Someone crying, whimpering, in pain.

_Stop_ , he wanted to scream, but no words came out.

“Seung-gil.” He felt hands gripping his shoulders, felt them shaking him, but he yanked away from the other person.

He stood shakily and looked around the rink, disoriented. Standing in the middle of the ice, he yanked off his skates and tossed them aside without a glance. And then he ran.

Distantly, he could hear Phichit chasing him and he knew that he must look stupid running out of the rink in just his socks, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He needed to get far away.

People stared at him as he ran through the streets, but he barely registered their faces. His head was filled with the buzzing sound and the crying. Those whimpers…

Finally Seung-gil remembered that it was himself he heard crying, and he broke down into tears in the middle of the busy crosswalk. Why was he trying so hard to succeed at skating when he knew he could never be happy again?

He didn’t deserve happiness.

He didn’t deserve anyone.

A blaring horn cut through the sounds in his head, and he looked up into a pair of bright lights.

 


End file.
